


Certitude: Coda for Ina Paha

by IreneClaire



Series: Various Notions Collection [13]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s05e08 Coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6802192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Certitude is defined as the state of being or feeling certain:  freedom from doubt. A rather late addition to the family of coda's for the 100th episode. A bromantic, Steve and Danny-fest, originally a one shot and now a multi-chapter -- recently changed to 'in progress' due to a needy muse. Hurt Steve. Emotional Steve. Angsty Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

There was no reason for him to open his eyes and making that decision wasn't even really a decision at all. Opening his eyes would have taken him a monumental effort. Plus, with the cocktail of drugs still in his system, he'd see any number of weird or inexplicable things through a dizzying, unfocused haze. And that singular fact made the attempt not even worth it.

On one level he knew that his reality had been terribly skewed. Danny had gently coached him through that over the last few hours time and again. Still, it was hard. Because on another plane, he definitely believed some of it. In fact, he wanted to at least believe a little bit of it. Especially the part about his father and he found himself desperate to find the pleasant bits of what he'd once thought had been so real. But the misfiring synapses inside his brain refused to cooperate and instead, he mourned his loss yet again.

His current reality was an unfair mix of right and wrong; of truth and lies. He ached mentally and if possible, even worse physically. He was nauseous, in an incredible amount of pain and all of that, too, was reason enough not to open his eyes, let alone twitch a muscle. Quite literally, from the top of his head and down to his still bare feet, he hurt like a _sonofabitch_ and there was no relief in sight.

No relief because of the weird mix of drugs which had been mercilessly pumped into his bloodstream, leaving none of his vitals remotely on a par with normal. At least, his physicians couldn't give him anything yet; not until almost hourly blood tests told them whatever it was they needed to know. So at that very moment, the only line running into his arm was for fluids in an ongoing battle to flush his system free of so many terrible toxins. His doctors didn't dare prescribe pain medication of any sort for fear of worsening adverse reactions and so they left him to his bone-deep druthers and painful mental wanderings. Inside his silent hell, he argued all of his memories and those lies foisted upon him while struggling through the pain caused by a severe concussion, a gunshot wound to his shoulder, several contusions and three cracked ribs. Each shallow breath was a struggle despite the oxygen mask strapped to his face and the purported comfort of the bed he now lay upon.

In the end, he simply couldn't do it.

Steve kept his eyes closed despite the ball of panic dwelling inside his chest. He was safe and yet he wasn't. The ball was bigger than his fist and it sat there - right next to his heart - and refused to budge. If anything, it was getting hotter, bigger and heavier with each passing minute and his breathing noticeably hitched. The discomfort that caused worsened his real physical woes and Steve lost his battle to remain calm.

"You're okay, babe," Danny's voice was his balm as his fingers clenched the thin fabric of the bedsheets at the same time his face crumpled in pain. Eyes welded shut, Steve sucked in a careful breath of oxygen and lost a reactive tear to the flare of agony spiking through his chest.

"Shit!" Danny cursed over his head, a rapid-fire rush of reassurances following closely and virtually in Steve's ear. "You're okay ... it's okay. Try to relax, I'll be right back." There was a parting of air and then Danny was gone, yet his voice easily still reached Steve's ears from where he now stood in the doorway to his hospital room.

"What the hell are you all waiting for? What were the results of his blood tests?"

Steve heard his partner gripe, the annoyance in his tone oddly soothing, but not enough to ease his rising panic. Not nearly enough to make him even want to smile as his hands began to tremble.

"This is bullshit already ... he's been here for four hours and you can't figure this out?! He's in _pain_!"

Steve lay there, breathing in pained spurts, eyes still closed and his head throbbing in time to the uneven cadence of his heartbeat. The ball inside his chest had grown to the size of an anvil now as more panic unfurled inside his mind to become a physical thing which he couldn't control. He was losing the fight again and getting mired in a contrived reality as after-images flashed rapidly behind his closed lids where they scattered like dust.

His father. _Mary_. On a beach when they were just _kids_ ... his _mother_ filming them because who else could it have been? Then Danny ... _yet, not Danny._ Not _his_ Danny in a crazy, shit-loud Hawaiian shirt that he'd never wear in a million years. Not _his_ Danny .. and not his Danny shooting ... _Hesse_. Point blank range to get a confession. Stifling a cry of pain by using a _pillow_? Had it really been _Hesse in a hospital bed_? Worse yet though ... had Danny done that ... _twice_?

"D'nny?" Steve hoarsely rasped under the oxygen mask. Under his fingers, the bedsheet was now a wadded mess of damp material as another vision revisited: _Danny happily married. Happily entrenched and at home in Hawaii because he wanted to be here._ Inconceivably breaking rules. But that was without mention of a task force. Without Five-0 ... _without their friendship._

Steve's breath painfully hitched again while his face creased in pain from the pull on his ribs. They ... _he_ ... had no team. Nothing. No one. His breath shuddered through partly opened lips as he got stuck in an endless tailspin. Again. Knowing he was hopelessly stuck and praying for it all to stop while his head tossed in refusal at the voice stuck inside his mind.

 _Brothers_.

Wo Fat had insisted they were brothers. A fallacy in any universe. But _Danny_ ... the one constant through it all. Because even in that altered state of being, Danny had been by his side every step of the way. At least taking every step that mattered ... even when he'd killed Wo Fat _for the first time_ on the docks. Only Danny had been there to back him up.

Steve practically choked at the retinal images flying through his minds-eye, wondering what they meant or maybe they meant nothing at all.

"D...D'nny?" Steve called out, his voice breaking but managing to be louder behind the oxygen mask. "Danno!" He projected his voice upwards, wincing in pain and panting in fear while his stomach clenched in warning. The feeling of nausea increased in spades and Steve moaned deep and low. A machine dinged nearby and then another. When no one answered him, Steve fought to open his eyes and won, wincing at the overhead lights even though they'd been intentionally dimmed. He stared at the sterile setting and panic blossomed bigger than before.

It was too much like the all-white room he'd first woken in and he literally felt his heart stutter-stop inside his chest, strong enough for yet another alarm to go off near his head.

"Danno?!" Steve pushed out through clenched teeth, his eyes tearing as he fought to focus on the murky shadows now swiftly coming to his bedside. None seemed familiar and he helplessly allowed the panic to take over. He was panting through a soul-aching whine, his breath keeping the oxygen mask permanently fogged, his heart racing when adrenalin spiked too high. He groaned when nausea devolved into a stomach-churning need to really vomit and he swallowed vainly against a flux of bile. The sour sting settled deeply in the back of his throat forcing him to cough which only managed to badly ping his injured ribs and he groaned again, sweat now beading his forehead.

The cycle was unfair and vicious, and Steve lost whatever little energy he'd garnered quickly as his voice waned to nearly nothing. Limp and exhausted, he closed his eyes again, a frantic whisper of his friend's name the only sound he could make. "Danny ... _D'nno?_ "

"Here! I'm here," Danny called out as he bypassed a nurse to scoop Steve's fingers out of the twisted bedding. "Easy ... easy, Steve. You're okay, babe. I'm right here. Not going anywhere ... I just had to ask the doctors a few questions. Can you calm down for me? Please? You've got every damned bell and alarm going off in here."

Steve forced his eyes back open. He squinted to bring Danny into focus, his eyes resorting to a wild blinking as he cataloged the rumpled light blue dress shirt first. Ordinary. Boring. It screamed out of place _mainlander_. After that, came the hours worth of exhaustion and the deep lines around his partner's eyes. Then plainly etched in his expression was an undeniable fear ... a fear entirely for Steve's own well-being.

His Danny. His reality ... _without his father_ ... and yet this time, Steve felt a certainty of spirit which left him absolutely and utterly relieved.

"I'm here. You're okay," Danny whispered because he knew where Steve had gone again inside his head. The terror would fade and things would be okay. Eventually. So, his voice was steady and calm; precisely all that Steve needed to hear. But then his head turned away as he berated the closest of the medical staff and Steve weakly squeezed his hand to stem an anger that had to be aimed somewhere ... at anyone.

"What the hell just happened? Oh I _know_ ... he's in pain!" Danny ground out sarcastically from over his head, both his hands virtually welded to Steve's own. Helping him to hang on for dear life as if willing him to understand that this was his best, safe reality and that Danny was going to do his damnedest to keep it that way. "When the hell are you all going to get your damned acts together and do something to make him feel better? He's in pain ... he's hurting ... _he's_ ..."

" _M'fin_ e. Danny," Steve breathed out softly, interrupting the emotional tirade. He forced down a sob which cracked his already weakened voice while he tightened his grip on Danny's hand, his knuckles white with effort. "I'm ... _fine_. I just ... I thought you ... I only _thought_ ...you'd left ... I _thought_ ..."

But Danny was shaking his head, his attention now entirely back on Steve while his trembling fingers remained enveloped within his own. Danny's mouth flapped open soundlessly, a look of disbelief morphing into a flicker of humor, yet he didn't argue Steve's ludicrous statement. In fact, he passed no judgment at all.

Instead his eyes wound up narrowing in consideration and he said nothing. Danny didn't need an explanation or a reason for Steve to elaborate. He knew enough about Steve first believing that his father had still been alive. He knew plenty about the drugs he'd been subjected to and how they were still messing with his mind and toying with his fragile state of emotions.

Danny was astute enough to fill in the gaps, guess everything else which remained unsaid, and Steve felt the stifling weight of the ball begin to unravel as his best friend wilted to sit onto the edge of the bed.

"I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere," Danny promised quietly.

_**~ END ~ except for the unexpected second chapter ......**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now for Danny's POV. I should have known better than to mark a one chapter/one shot. There are two of them after all. Plus, when the muse grabs a bone, it grabs it with both hands and worries it to pieces!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny died a thousand deaths every time he looked at his partner. He'd practically died the first time after he'd opened the door to that horrific room. Setup for torture, the space should have been nothing more than a dank storage room. Yet it had been mutated into so much more and Danny had been sure that Steve was dead when he'd seen him just lying there in a pool of water. Wo Fat, the guns, the obvious signs of torture and … the _smell_. Gunpowder lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of blood and things so sour that they overwhelmed the more common stink of mold and mildew.

All of it had been incomprehensible and yet Danny had seared each of those terrible things into his mind.

He had him back now but it wasn't enough. Not yet. Even though Steve had miraculously survived the kidnapping and torture, Danny was still petrified that he'd lose him anyway.

Danny wouldn't allow any one of the team near Steve once they got him to the hospital. In fact, that decision had happened even before they'd gotten him on a stretcher; Danny simply hadn't verbalized it. He was being entirely selfish, yet he honestly didn't give a rat's ass about the decision he'd made and those he continued to make. Not even Chin had challenged him thus far which proved that the Asian simply sensed the very same thing. Someone needed to control Steve's world down to its barest of necessities to give him back some sense of security. That someone could only be Danny.

Steve was teetering a delicate balance between the rational and the insane. He was vulnerable and wildly vacillating amongst too many emotions. The first question he'd managed to choke out had just about killed Danny for the second time. His subsequent questions and mumblings chipped away at Danny's stalwart resolve. Each odd word or strange, confused look turned his way killed Danny just a little bit more and he reacted the only way he knew how to.

_"I'm staying with Steve while you tear this place apart," Danny had said after rounding first on Grover, then Chin. "I want anything which might have been pumped into him. I want it all and I want it waiting at the hospital so they know how to help him. Then keep going. No one leaves ... I want everyone here rounded up, brought in and interrogated."_

No one had challenged him as orders spewed forth to tear the factory apart and take every solitary soul into custody. If anyone was remotely related to Wo Fat in any way, shape or form, he or she wouldn't be seeing the light of day for a very very long time. In a fury, Danny demanded that INS be brought in and then a full CSI unit. With eyes focused solely on Steve's care, not a single person had then dared to stop Danny from getting into the back of the ambulance, fully geared up and resolute in keeping hold of his rather intimidating submachine gun. Only Kono had found the wherewithal to say something about that.

At the very last minute, she'd pounded her fist on the ambulance's rear door just before it had been slammed shut, her eyes wide, hand outstretched, she demanded that he at least hand over the MP7 with a wry comment about there not being a need in terrorizing half of Oahu's medical staff. Danny hadn't said a word either. He'd simply slammed the safety on and tossed her the weapon.

Now more than four hours later, his black leather gloves discarded under his chair and tac vest draped over its back, Danny sat by Steve's bedside in the ICU unable to stop an irritating array of fidgets. He was still scared half to death and couldn't stay still. First slouched, legs splayed, he moved to slide his upper body forward, elbows on his knees to hang his head towards the linoleum. But that position wouldn't last long either has he kept replaying Steve's utter look of loss over and over again through his mind.

_"Where's my dad?"_

"God dammit," Danny whispered into his fist, still sickened and confused by that first question once Steve had focused on his face. At first he hadn't seem to know what had happened or where he was. And then, he seemed to blank out on Danny all-together until recognition clicked in and he'd burst out with the most unexpected and least likely of questions.

_"Where's my dad?"_

His own brain had practically seized but he'd answered the question, then he'd been mortified by the desolation on Steve's face. The heart-wrenching sob and near breakdown were so not Steve, Danny still felt guilty for having said anything at all. Of course, they'd all learned quickly about the heavy-handed use of drugs. The evidence had been in their very faces and then Grover had ensured it arrived intact to the hospital for evaluation. Nonetheless, those facts barely changed Danny's feelings of guilt at having stupidly caused his friend even more anxiety.

_Psychotropic drugs. Hallucinogens. Narcotics._

Most still as yet unnamed and even with the drugs in hand, others remained best guesses by the doctors. Danny still didn't know exactly what Wo Fat had wanted - though he could easily make assumptions. But this hatred? To go to such an extent with no foreseeable way back, Danny was beside himself with anger and sickened by frustration and worry. Nothing was obvious yet except the clear, certain fact that Wo Fat hadn't meant for Steve to survive.

And really – what did that matter now? Danny only knew about the fall-out he was seeing inflicted upon his best friend. Body-wide tremors had yet to stop and his gown was soaked through by a cold sweat. Steve was restless, in obvious distress and Danny ached to do so much more than he was capable of at that very moment.

"Damned doctors," he groused helplessly under his breath next. Danny hung his head and fought his emotions, the only thing distracting him the faint sound of a moan and then the discordant sound of an unhappy machine.

"Steve?" Scarcely a second later, he was on his feet, his hand on Steve's shoulder as his partner roused from a half-sleep, agitated and undeniably in pain.

"You're okay, babe," Danny crooned softly when he heard the changes in Steve's already distressed staccato breaths. With his heart in his mouth, Danny rocked on his toes, cataloguing the ever-increasing volume of pain etched across Steve's face. But it was the unexpected trail of a lone tear which had him cursing and looking for help.

"Shit!" Danny muttered worriedly, his free hand running roughly through his hair, mussing it even more than it had been. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ He bent over quickly, his frenetic and worried whisperings only meant for Steve's ears as he bounced in place before committing to leaving his friend's side. "You're okay ... it's okay. Try to relax, I'll be right back."

Two steps had Danny in the doorway to Steve's room, his sights set on the first doctor he could see. Loathe to go farther than necessary, Danny hissed his demands in the man's direction, his face reddened in anger. "What the hell are you all waiting for? What were the results of his blood tests?"

"He's been steadily improving, Detective. But we don't have the latest results yet," the doctor – Brueggen– replied succinctly. "I've put a rush on everything for Commander McGarrett … but there's just so much the lab can do."

"This is bullshit already ... he's been here for four hours and you can't figure this out?! He's in pain!" Danny's eyes narrowed in a fury. He knew the medical staff was trying and that Brueggen was the very best of the best, but he simply couldn't help himself. Arms waving like mad, Danny found himself stalking the doctor halfway down the corridor to get into his face.

"It's not good enough," Danny argued, knowing he was completely out of line. "There's got to be something else you can do for him. My team brought in everything they could find from that … that _fucking_ … torture chamber! On top of that, you've practically bled him dry!"

"I know." Brueggen nodded in understanding, his eyes full of sympathy as he absorbed the anger aimed his way. "I know. We all know, Detective. We've got a better handle on what was forced into his system; but the dosages … the volume and the strange mix. It's all left his blood chemistry," and Brueggen paused to give a helpless shrug of his own, his voice dropping to a discreet whisper to drive his own point home. _"A seriously fucked up mess_ and we just can't take the risk yet of giving him something which could make everything worse."

Unable to reply to those honest facts, Danny stared Brueggen down until he simply deflated. "How much longer?"

"Ten or fifteen minutes," Brueggan replied. "If he's in more normal ranges, we can at least consider a mild analgesic. But it's a delicate decision, Detective."

At a loss of what to do next, Danny hummed his understanding deep in his throat. He loitered for a second until he heard a faint call of his name and then he jolted. _Badly_. "Yeah!" Danny automatically responded to the sound of Steve's distant voice, his eyes bulging as worrisome mechanical alarms echoed from his partner's room. "Doc!"

Danny entered Steve's room on a run, Brueggan and three nurses with him, just as the heart monitor went off. "Danny ... _D'nno_?" Steve's voice was barely audible through the oxygen mask, his eyes were closed and his face covered in a sheen of sweat. Danny virtually died on the inside again as he rudely shoved past a nurse to rescue Steve's hand from a wad of twisted bedding.

"Here! I'm here," Danny vowed, his tone tight with stress as he worriedly looked from Brueggan for answers, before focusing back down to Steve. "Easy ... easy, Steve. You're okay, babe. I'm right here. Not going anywhere ... I just had to ask the doctors a few questions. Can you calm down for me? Please? You've got every damned bell and alarm going off in here."

The look on Steve's face that very moment - the way he raked his glassy eyes over Danny's clothing, his face and then seemed to drink in his very existence - was unsettling. Once more, Danny found himself stunned at the raw vulnerability in his best friend's expression. Uncomfortable by what he sensed, Danny knew that he was some sort of lynch pin to what had happened inside that room. He didn't quite know what to make of that either. Was Steve disappointed to see him? Upset ... or even angry? Danny didn't know. But what he did know was that no one else had been the recipient of such frightened, doubtful looks - no one else at all. Just him. Yet conversely, he was the only one who Steve had looked for from the get-go. Danny had been the only one he'd asked for time and again. Then, the only one who'd been able to get Steve to cooperate for the intravenous to be run, the blood to be drawn for test after test, and for just about every procedure done to him.

Steve definitely wanted Danny close by, yet the murkiness of the beseeching looks literally unnerved him. Though the conclusion was slow to come, Danny was now certain that whatever Steve believed about his father being alive was also linked to him in some strange way.

"I'm here. You're okay," Danny whispered as he heaved in a troubled breath and failed at hiding a worried wince until he saw a new calm descending. Steve was clearly examining him from head to toe. Danny fought another fidget as his partner met him eye for eye. Utterly unnerved, Danny almost said something but stopped when he saw he sparkle of something he'd been missing.

Now, for whatever reason, Steve was incredibly relieved to see him and even starting to take easier breaths. Doctor Brueggan was murmuring his approval, too. But Danny was still scared as Steve dug his fingers into his hand. In that spur of the moment and without thinking, he turned on Brueggen again, the doctor grimacing at the sarcasm aimed his way.

"What the hell just happened? Oh I _know_ ... he's in pain! When the hell are you all going to get your damned acts together and do something to make him feel better? He's in pain ... he's hurting ... _he's_ ..." Danny sputtered uncontrollably, both his hands now wrapped around Steve's one as he fought to soothe both of them.

 _"M'fine_. Danny," Steve quietly interrupted his tirade though. Danny felt the tug on his hand and looked down, any other words dying on his lips. Their eyes met and Steve tried to offer him a half-smile, the effort painstakingly sad in its attempt. "I'm ... _fine_. I just ... I thought you ... I only thought ...you'd left ... I thought ..."

 _Fine_? Danny got stuck on the first word. His mouth flapped open soundlessly while his numb brain tried to force out a poor joke and then failed completely. There was nothing even remotely _fine_ about what had happened. And for Steve to actually say something so damningly _Steve_ after hours of incoherent, frightening babble almost made him laugh out loud.

Danny blinked in confusion, his mouth still gaped wide open. Something did click though. A tiny thread of understanding about Steve's stammered explanation made some sense and Danny shook his head at an impossible thought.

 _Leave_? Steve thought he'd _left_?

Instinctively, Danny knew that there was a much deeper meaning behind that simple set of words. Steve didn't mean that he'd thought Danny had simply left the hospital ... he meant leave as in _leaving him_. An abandonment? Danny not being there at all. _Gone_?

Steve clearly meant something deeply poignant and in that split second of time, Danny simply _got it_. In whatever hell he'd been put through, everything for Steve had been a terrible extreme of alternate beliefs and realities. In whatever mind-boggling faked reality Steve's father had been alive and well ... _he and Steve_ ... their partnership - _even their friendship_ \- might not have existed.

With a sigh, Danny just about collapsed to sit on the side of Steve's bed as he studied the wan, earnest expression and hung on to Steve's hand just as tightly as his friend was grasping his own. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere," Danny promised quietly.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies .. evidently the muse was not as done as originally thought!

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve was purposefully taking it slow that weekend. Rather than even going for a swim, he'd decided to sleep most of the day before going into town for a rare shopping excursion. It was approaching evening hours by then, but still, he could do some basic shopping or doing nothing more than people-watch. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, yet he did find a few basic things as he meandered along. Produce from the farmer's market was shortly in hand and then he aimed himself deeper into the larger retail mall area. His goal was a casual swing through the hodge podge of retail vendors and tourists before returning home. Even crowded, the open air mall would be a great distraction from the painful events he'd endured earlier in the week. A perfect diversion despite the nearly overwhelming number of tourists he was currently wending his way through.

He stayed barely an hour, poking around the various vendors before retracing his steps in order to leave. Then on a whim, Steve texted Danny about having a late dinner at his place, pleased when a confirmation came back quickly.

_With Grace. Give me 2 hrs?_

On that note, Steve smiled. He calmly rolled his shoulders just to stretch, happily at ease and relaxed by his leisurely stroll through the crowd. It was all so very normal and exactly what he'd needed to end the day. Still smiling as he made his way to his truck, he idly tossed his bag in one hand ... until something familiar caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his bag of produce now swinging haphazardly from his fingers as too many broken images cascaded through his mind. It was too soon and he found himself off balance and unable to breathe properly. He coughed dryly as a sudden bead of sweat traced down his back and he swayed alarmingly to the side until someone accidentally jostled him and a child's laugh brought him sharply back to center. Glancing nervously around for really no reason at all, Steve fought to firmly tamp down a surge of panic. But his heart was already hammering wildly inside his chest.

_Walk away. Leave. Just turnaround ... and go._

Steve tried hard to listen to that inner voice; he really did try to listen to its sage advice. A second later, wide-eyed and stunned, he was standing in front of it though, his fingers shaking as the tested the material to be sure it was real.

"It's real," he stammered roughly just under his breath. He gulped when his partner's voice echoed in some remote place in his mind. _'Call me Danno - everyone does.'_

"And it's pure silk," a sweet, singsonged voice informed him from just behind his shoulder and he startled at the sound, his shoulders stiffening in surprise while he automatically balled his free hand into a fist.

' _Shit,'_  Steve swore softly as he froze in place, tense and on edge. He wasn't in danger and he needed to stand down. But that peaceful place where he'd been just minutes before was completely gone. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth trying to get it back anyway as the woman prattled on, barely listening to what she had to say about the garment. Scarcely paying attention to her at all as the blood hammered in his ears to mute her voice while sweat dotted his brow.

"There aren't many patterns as pretty as this one ... at least for what it is. Mostly everyone thinks a shirt like this is very cliche. Most are a dime a dozen. They're usually all cotton or even rayon and so very ... cheap." Her voice suddenly came back in a loud rush and Steve coughed again. He blinked his eyes wildly forcing himself to focus though he was trembling now. Why the saleswoman couldn't see that, he'd no idea.

Fighting his instincts to strike, Steve nodded numbly, his back still turned to the saleswoman. He closed his eyes as he worked at preventing himself from planting a fist directly between her eyes. She'd snuck up on him and his mind had been a million miles away. Or in all actuality, completely on another planet all together and he needed to calm down ... or leave. In fact, as he squinted his eyes opened again and stared at the fine material, Steve decided that leaving would be smart.

"But this one is pure silk and made quite nicely." The soft, friendly chuckle which followed was telling of the usual and more pedestrian quality of such a shirt and Steve faintly nodded again, still completely incapable of turning around despite the warnings his inner voice trilled.

_Leave. He needed to walk away._

"I ... I _uh_ , was just ... looking," he murmured vaguely as he allowed his fingers to fall away from where he'd been worrying the shirt's fine hem. He was dizzy and feeling off-kilter again, the air in the shopping stall suddenly thick and much too heavy.

"It's one of a kind," the woman purred sweetly from behind his back. "You won't see another like it ... anywhere."

 _'You're so wrong,'_ Steve thought to himself as he shuddered at her off-hand comment. With an effort, he turned around and tried to smile at her, knowing that he likely looked ridiculous or even sickly. She was waiting for him to say something though ... anything.

" _Uh_. So," his mouth gaped open as he struggled to breathe, their eyes meeting. Hers of a warm, honest brown and his, glassy and practically unfocused. "How ... how much is it?" Steve finally managed to croak out.

"A bargain at $45.00 ... a real bargain for pure silk," the woman said as she smiled pleasantly up into his face. "But ... there are cheaper ..."

 _Just turnaround ... and go._ His inner voice was shouting at him now. Screaming at him to move. But he couldn't do it. Instead, he said the most amazing of things.

"No. I'll take it," Steve choked out around a sudden inexplicable pain in his chest. "Yeah," he stammered as he moved aside for the saleswoman to take the Hawaiian silk shirt off its hangar. "Yeah. I'll take it." Feet leaden and incapable of saying more, he followed her to the cash register.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Thank you for putting up with this annoying Completed and then not so Completed Work In Progress. I appreciate you all so much! This should be done now. The shirt always bugged me. My thanks to Swifters for kicking the muse into submission (sort of).

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

He drove straight home right after the woman had carefully folded the shirt into a paper-lined white box which bespoke of its perceived value. That delay, no matter how brief, had only served to make Steve more anxious. Twice, he tried to tel her that he'd changed his mind. That he was sorry for causing her so much trouble and that she should cancel the transaction. But the words refused to leave his mouth. So he wound up as he was now, on the verge of panic and still trying to figure out why he'd bought the damned thing in the first place.

He felt its presence behind him while he drove. The boxed shirt and the pretty bag it sat in seemed to stare at him the entire time from the rear bench seat of his Silverado truck and Steve had to fight himself from falling into a negative circular abyss. He'd worked himself up and was feeling sick by the time he got home; nauseous and trembling.

_Cow or bird?_

His cell phone buzzed half-way to his front door and he stopped long enough to stare at the screen. Steve frowned, sweating and over-heated, completely confused by the weird message until he realized Danny was asking about what they were eating that night.

_Ribs? Chicken? Beer. What else?_

An impatient text followed and Steve still didn't move before a fourth vibrated through. "Give me a chance!" Steve griped to himself as he fumbled the bags and his house keys, cursing when he accidentally dropped the keys and with one hand, typed back a fast answer.

_Got salad. Buy steak._

There was a long enough pause for Steve to retrieve his keys and get himself inside. Then the next text was almost rude even for the one word that it was and he had to smile. Rude and full of a disgusted tone which he could literally feel based on the spaces between the otherwise innocuous question marks.

_Salad ? ? ?_

Steve grinned as he mentally added an incredulous _seriously?_ to what Danny implied, allowing the exchange to distract him enough to get moving. He dropped the bag with the shirt on his way into the kitchen, leaving it stranded by the coffee table. Intent on focusing on the produce he'd purchased instead, Steve let his habits in the kitchen briefly soothe his ruffled spirit. He ignored the warnings and worry in the back of his head as he washed the vegetables and got out the cutting board. He ignored what he envisioned in the darkest recesses of is mind's eye because - _the thing in the box_ \- had taken on a life of its own, not only inside his head, but now inside his house.

He cleared his throat nervously when he caught himself glancing towards the living room. He could see just the edge of the shopping bag from where he stood in the kitchen. He lasted long enough to at least get the salad bowls out and the leafy lettuce washed before he allowed the strong pull to become too much.

Groaning softly, Steve stood over the bag. He bent down, hands shaking to finally reach for the box. He pushed the top off and rustled though the sheaves of fine paper to run his fingers lightly over the shiny black collar, the silk feeling slick and cool.

_Danny's shirt._

The material was indeed very pretty. The shirt was everything he'd remembered too. Well-made and even nicer now that he could touch it. Still, seeing it again, _now_ , tied his stomach into knots.

"What the hell am I doing?" Steve complained out loud. He didn't stop though. Instead, he took it out of the box and held it in front of his face. It was definitely Danny's shirt and he tumbled backwards in time to what had happened nearly six full days earlier.

_Wo Fat. His father. Chin's office. Danny ... but no, that was wrong. That was not his Danny at all._

Steve remembered images he'd all but forgotten. They were time-rusty already, mustier and likely far from accurate - if they ever had been. They were nothing more than hallucinations. But none of that mattered because the damned shirt was suddenly real and it had become a trigger of monstrous proportions.

 _His father. Their reunion._ A sob caught in his throat when he remembered how he'd hugged his father in Chin's office. _Danny had saved his father's life. Hesse had lost._ He remembered how real it had been and - as he stared at the Hawaiian shirt - he cursed himself for having gone out that day. He cursed himself for having seen the shirt in the mall, let alone having the sheer stupidity to actually purchase it.

"What the hell am I doing!?" He said even louder. Embarrassed now and growing even more angry with himself, Steve scowled darkly. He was acting the victim and over what? A shirt? In anger, he balled the fine material up and shoved it carelessly back into the bag.

What he'd just done to himself was beyond stupid on so many levels.

Breathing heavily, Steve stalked back to the kitchen, willing himself to forget about it and move on. He'd return the thing in the morning. But the damage had been done and it took him minutes on end to get himself back under control.

The damned thing was real. It was real and even though he might have conjured it up in his nightmarish hallucinations, because really, he might very well have seen one a time or two in passing somewhere in his life. That truth didn't matter or even remotely stop his brain from dwelling and he was completely kidding himself for trying.

Steve hung his head and closed his eyes while he stood dismally over the kitchen sink. He heaved in a great sigh and swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in his throat. Right then and there, he vowed to table the damned thing, along with his father, Wo Fat and the other somewhat disturbing version of his partner. With all his might, Steve opened his eyes and focused on watching the clock and prepping the salad he'd originally been in the mood for earlier in the day.

"Yo! Steven!" Steve startled badly when his front door slammed closed, Danny's voice suddenly filling the entire house. So zoned out, he'd never even heard his friend arrive. He looked up from where he'd been prepping the salad, knife in hand, surprised to find his kitchen relatively dark since dusk was falling fast.

"Shit," he murmured softly when he realized that he'd been holding the same length of cucumber on the cutting board for only God knew how long. He looked up at the clock and grimaced in self-disgust. Twenty minutes? He'd scarcely budged even after vowing to move on.

"Power outage?" Danny asked loudly, his hand automatically hitting the switch to flood the room with light. He shrugged in askance, laughter in his eyes as he put two six-packs of Longboards on the counter, followed by another bag which he started to immediately unpack.

"Uh, no," Steve replied lamely. "Just didn't bother with the light." He blinked through the momentary ache in his temples as his eyes acclimated quickly. "What is all that?"

"Steak. Burgers," Danny announced as he waved off Steve's reason and yet he eyed the green salad in exasperation. "Ribs, too. I couldn't decide. But _salad_? Really?" This time he jutted his chin out, lips pursed together, his entire expression one of total comedic frustration at Steve's evident lapse in judgement.

"It's a good thing I had a backup plan - I brought real food, Steven. We're not rabbits ... you make your salad ... I got the grill, babe." Steve shook his head as his partner's rush of energy washed over him. It felt good and shook him from his negative lethargy. Steve found himself grinning now at the nonstop litany of complaints about the grill needing to be warmed up ... followed by the absolute need to have a fire in the pit down by the beach.

Danny's warmth took over the entirety of the house and Steve embraced it. By the time they'd readied the food, he'd forgotten about the shirt. And as the night wore on and they settled down by the beach, beers in hand, Steve was back to his calm. Stretched out lean and long in his chair, he was owl-eyed and comfortable as the evening droned on in quiet harmony. Their cleanup was simple enough, too. Danny taking the lead when he sensed the exhaustion in his friend, insisting that Steve go to bed because he was still recovering.

"What's this?"

"What's what, Danno?" Steve tiredly asked from the kitchen. Danny was on his way home and Steve was anxious to get to bed. He'd forgotten all about it until Danny inadvertently found the bag where he'd discarded it in the living room. Sloppily balled up, a portion of the shirt had been peeking out from the bag's top, the box nearby and the paper strewn to the floor.

"What are you ... channeling your inner Magnum?" Danny chuckled as he held the Hawaiian shirt up in the air by the material of its shoulders to read the label. "It's silk - nice! You know what? It's not half bad actually ... the colors are kinda nice ... more dark and less ... floral. If your changing up your style, I ... uh, don't think it will fit you though. It's a little small ..."

"Put it down!" Steve choked out, nearly dropping the beer he held in his hand as his blood ran cold. He wavered in place as he watched Danny hold the shirt up to his own chest as if checking out the sizing. "God, Danno. Put it down!"

"What? Why?" Danny was't even looking at him as he held the shirt up to himself, humming about the fit and a general appreciation for the color. "It's not so bad ...looks good even."

"No! No ... it doesn't!" Steve just about shouted at him now. He stumbled backwards as a wave of vertigo struck him hard. Steve hit the wall with a solid thud, his face ashen as he stared in horror at his partner. "Just ... Danny please. Put the damned thing down!"

"Whoa! Steve!" Danny dropped the shirt as if stung. He ran to his partner and grabbed his arms in order to hold him up as Steve's knees buckled. "Hey, hey. Take it easy, babe. You're alright ... what's going on?" His worry was blatant as Steve's face literally turned white. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. No. Just, Danny. Please." Steve felt truly sick now. It was one thing to see it hanging in a stall at the market. But he never should have bought it. Why the hell did he buy it? No matter, seeing Danny holding it up ... right there in his own house ... experimenting as if it might fit him? No. No, it was all wrong.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered brokenly. "I'm fine. I'm okay .. really."

"Like hell you are," Danny argued softly. "What the hell just happened, Steve?"

"I made a mistake," Steve said lamely as he shirked out of his partner's grip. "Just a mistake; I'm okay .. I am. I didn't mean to ruin our night."

"Uh, no. That's not good enough," Danny softly argued back. "You my friend are far from okay. You look like you've seen a ghost."

He waited, but Steve refused to speak. In all honesty, it was obvious that he didn't know what to say or how to explain what the hell was going on inside his head. Danny watched as his friend shrugged, an odd laugh breaking apart in his chest as tears seemed to threaten his eyes. Worried, Danny pushed harder, one hand preventing Steve from a useless nervous fidget because suddenly, his friend looked liked he wanted to run.

"Steve? Talk to me ... you're sort of scaring the hell out of me right now."

Steve stared at Danny, long and hard. He tried to explain himself and then couldn't muster the energy to say a word. Turning on his heel, face still ashen, he almost raced out through the lanai for the sanctity of the chairs down by the beach.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Danny asked breathlessly. Or course he'd followed Steve as soon as he'd bolted. Scared and entirely confused, he'd followed in Steve's footsteps.

"Steve? Hey, buddy?" He crouched down in front of where Steve was sitting. The fire he'd made in the pit was to his back and the flicker of flames illuminated Steve's face in soft shadows and streaks of light. He could see the wet glimmer on his friend's cheeks, stunned to realize that Steve was silently crying.

"What happened? How can I help?" Danny pushed again but Steve only shook his head, his mouth opening and then closing without a sound.

Failing at taking a cleansing breath, Steve closed his eyes and argued with himself. _How could he explain this? Just ... how?_

"You can tell me anything," Danny whispered patiently. He grimaced and put his hand carefully on Steve's knee, worried more as he felt the body-wide vibration. Steve was trembling, his body virtually thrumming with pent-up tension. To him, the problem was obvious and with no recourse, he finally just asked the painful question.

"Is this about ... what happened? You remembered something, didn't you?"

Steve snorted softly under his breath at that; at Danny's innate ability to cut right to the chase. He opened his eyes and looked into Danny's face and jerked an affirmative nod.

"Yeah, it is," Steve finally pushed out. "It's about what happened, Danno. I'm sorry ... it's my fault. It's not even that important. Not really." He drew in a deep breath, his face looking haggard and worn. "You should go home. It's getting late."

"I doubt that it's your fault," Danny said. "None of that bullshit is your fault, Steve. And if it's getting you this upset .. then yeah ... it's also very important." Danny waited, perched on his toes, wanting to know more and anxious to help. "You need to talk about it. And by the way, I'm not leaving until you do."

"Danny," Steve whispered plaintively.

"You can tell me anything," Danny whispered, needing to duck down to catch Steve's eye. "Seriously ... you need to get this off your chest. Just tell me. What's with that shirt? Why did you just freak out?"

There was a pregnant pause and a stuttered inhale of air. Steve looked past Danny and then back again, he winced as if in pain before barely opening his mouth to speak. "He wore it. The other ... you," Steve mumbled.

"Say again?" Danny cocked his head quizzically before pursing his lips tightly closed. "Ah babe? You've totally lost me here. The other _me_?"

"Yeah," Steve bit his lip to stop a hysterical laugh, his voice quivering. "Danno. The other ... _you_ , buddy."

Danny twisted his mouth to the side, his brow furrowed in confusion. He'd heard plenty about Steve's father but nothing about this. He knew he'd been a glimmer in that terrible drugged haze, but he certainly lacked details. Until that moment, he'd known nothing about himself appearing in Steve's terrifying dream-state. Silent for a long time as he eyed Steve's pale face, it was Danny's turn to be quiet. He didn't understand; not just yet. But he was worried as he tried to make a few assumptions, wondering how he figured into the mix.

"So, this other me," Danny twisted his mouth, wondering how best to ask his next question. "He ... wore that shirt and you just happen to have it now?"

"I wasn't looking for it," Steve answered in a defensive rush. "It just happened. I saw it ... and I bought it. It was a stupid knee-jerk reaction."

"Okay," Danny replied with calm acceptance. "So, where did you find it?" But he couldn't help wondering how long his partner had the shirt in his possession. He hoped not long and was relived by the eventual answer.

"Downtown. Today," Steve inhaled around a sharp laugh which hurt his throat and he wound up coughing. Tears pricked his eyes again and he stammered around his words, stale images flitting just out of reach, his explanation sounding ridiculous even in his own ears.

"It was just ... _there_. Right in front of me and I didn't know what to do .. _. I_ ...when I saw my dad ... you were there a lot too ... the _other_ you anyway. This was your shirt, Danno."

"Okay," Danny said carefully. His shirt? No, of course it wasn't, but he understood where Steve had been inside his head and he said as much. "I get it. I didn't know ... but I get it." In truth, he was slightly taken aback and unsure of what to say or do. His mind was going a mile a minute and yet he still didn't know how to handle the conversation and Steve's delicate emotional struggle. At a loss as he heard Steve's breath hitch uncomfortably, Danny merely shrugged.

"Well. It's a nice shirt - for what it is. But, you do know that I wouldn't be caught dead in a thing like that. Right?"

"Yeah. Well," Steve shrugged back, still defensive, his voice hoarse and his eyes ever bright with tears. " _Well_ , this other you did ... and he or you liked it. He liked being here too ... you told me so."

" _Ah? I ._.. no, he what?" Danny breathed out softly, plainly worried as Steve flip-flopped between pronouns, his face still pale. Using his bad knee as the excuse, Danny tried to hide his surprise as he plopped backwards to sit in the sand at Steve's feet before he found his voice again.

"I .. he _liked_ being here ... as here in Hawaii?" Danny asked in disbelief, backpedaling quickly when he saw the stricken look in Steve's eyes. "Shit, I mean, yeah I like it here _now_ ... Grace is here ... my life is here. _Now_. Hell, we've been together as partners for years _now_. Right? Other than getting shot at every single damned day with yours truly, what the hell's not to like?"

"There's more." Steve snorted quietly in the back of his throat. There was a glimmer of a smile on his face, but he was still sad. He was still caught up in what he remembered. "The other you," Steve said, refusing to meet Danny's eyes. "Was _happy_ ... you ... he ... was married to Rachel still. Happy and he said that he'd moved here ... just because he could."

"Shit. That's ... different," Danny murmured while he raised his eyebrows at that bit of information. Married to Rachel? He'd moved to Hawaii _on_ _purpose_? Everything Steve had experienced had most definitely been an incredible alternate land of extremes. If it hadn't been so damned terrifying, what Steve was saying now might have been funny.

"This other guy sounds like a real fruit loop, Steven," Danny spontaneously snarked back, his finger making a series of circles up by his own ear. "Completely off his rocker. A total nut job.""

There was an incredulous chuffed sound from the chair and Danny glanced up in concern, but Steve was suddenly laughing. He narrowed his eyes, lips pursed as the energy changed slightly to a better place. Danny grabbed that opportunity with both hands as he made another thin assumption.

"Tell me that you didn't buy that shirt for me, Steven," Danny asked, his tone almost horrified by this thought. "Tell me _please_ ... that in that scrambled noggin of yours, that you didn't actually buy me a silk Hawaiian shirt because you thought it would make me ... _like_ this coconut infested hell-hole of eternal sun."

Steve's mouth gaped open as another sob-drenched chuckle burst out from his chest. He shook his head, wondering how the conversation had gotten to this point. "Well ... no," he confessed around an odd sound in his throat; something still stuck between laughter and tears. "I didn't get it for you. I really don't know why I bought it. Except ... then ... when I saw it today .. I needed to have it. But it was a bad idea; I shouldn't have done it."

They were moving to a better plane, nonetheless Danny could see the ongoing turmoil creasing Steve's face. The pain was there. All of the indecision, confusion and doubt that he'd conquered just a few days earlier were back as if the feelings had never left. He was fluctuating wildly between his emotions as he tried to define a valid reason for why he'd done what he'd done in the first place.

"I get why you did what you did," Danny said off-handedly as he tried to keep the mood light. "But it's just a shirt, Steve. It's okay ... it's not a big deal."

"And yet it is," Steve sniffed again, a wry half-smile slightly displacing the mix of tears and laughter in his eyes. "It is, right? A huge deal." He sobered quickly then, his voice falling to a morose tone and the smile suddenly fading away.

"Parts of what happened were so real, Danny."

Danny sighed as he ran his sweaty palms over his pants as part of a nervous twitch. He didn't dare voice what Steve really meant. That some of those parts were not only so real, but things which Steve desperately wished to have back. Solid and whole.

"I know," Danny breathed out sympathetically. They'd gone down so many similar paths in as many hours and sometimes nothing he could say seemed to help for long. There were only moments of calm until something like this happened. A calm until an odd trigger brought Steve crashing down once again. But a shirt? Who could ever have guessed that?

Danny blinked suddenly as a thought came to mind. He got to his feet without saying a word. He didn't reply to Steve's soft query either. Instead, he went back to the house and got the shirt. He brought it back out to the chairs and sat down to Steve's left, the shirt draped over his knee. He watched Steve and saw the convulsive swallow. That one reaction solidified a plan he hadn't quite realized he'd formed in his brain.

"What else did this other me ... do or say?" Danny quietly pressed. He purposefully ran his fingers over the silk while he waited for Steve's answer, noticing yet another pained expression cross his friend's face. Suddenly, he really didn't like the shirt very much at all. It was too cold under his fingers and much too slippery just like a greasy oil.

"I don't know," Steve whispered almost inaudibly. "Except ... before you left or maybe I was leaving. I don't remember which it was, you told me that I should call you Danno. In fact, you told me that I _should_ because everybody called you that."

"What?" Danny's snort of utter disbelief was overly loud and his widened eyes proved how genuinely stunned he was by that pronouncement. "Excuse me?" He snorted again. "I said what?"

His reaction was so priceless that Steve had to grin again. He wiped a hand over his face, surprising himself by the dampness he found there. But he was smiling again as his partner literally unhinged at the seams by what he'd shared.

"It's true, Danno," Steve found himself chuckling once more as Danny indignantly lurched to his feet, the shirt balled in his hands. He kept staring at the shirt though, completely disliking the fact that Danny was holding it. He couldn't put it into words, but seeing the garment in Danny's hands was all wrong for this reality. Entirely wrong and totally out of place. But, pushing his disquiet down, Steve took a deep breath and forged on, his eyes finally settling firmly on Danny's face.

"Really ... you did. You were quite adamant about it, too."

"Obviously then, that was not _me_ ," Danny snarked back, his tone lacking any real heat. He leaned over at the waist, inches from Steve's face in order to make his point, a very real annoyance evident in his expression. "That's just so incredibly wrong on so many levels that it's not worth discussing. To hell with that!"

He tossed the shirt idly in his hands, all the while watching Steve's face and not liking what he saw. Thoughts were racing once more through his mind. Should he do it or not? Steve was smiling, yet there was still that same damned confusion lurking so closely to the surface. Even a bit of very uncharacteristic fear.

"So, this other ... me," Danny asked, eyebrows raised as took a purposeful step towards the ring of fire. "He, _uh_ ... said all this, huh?"

Completely unsuspecting of Danny's intentions, Steve nodded. "Well, yeah."

" _Oookay_ ," Danny drawled casually as he held his arm out over the fire and let out a casual oops. With scarcely a flick of his fingers, the shirt dropped from his hand. At the same time, Steve stumbled to his feet, blinking in stunned surprise as sparks rose, yellowed flames brightened the shallow pit, and the shirt immediately burst into flames.

"Danno! What the hell are you doing!" Steve gasped as a log cracked and a breeze off the water sent a new flux of red and yellow sparks even higher into the air.

"That my friend is just completely unacceptable," Danny calmly stated as he folded his arms belligerently across his chest. "Next, you're going to tell me that this other me had a fetish for pineapple, aren't you?"

He dared Steve to say something about what he'd done, though he was terrified on the inside. He didn't really know what Steve might do or say as the shirt shriveled to black ash right in front of their very eyes. He watched warily as Steve clenched and then unclenched his fingers, entranced by the smoldering wreck of material. Shoulders hunched and the tremble still evident, Steve didn't say anything though.

What was done, was done now and for better ... or worse, Danny droned on with purpose.

"No one calls me Danno. Except for Grace." There was another lull then only punctuated by the discordant hiss and crackle of the fiery logs. A quietude in which Danny forced himself to remain silent until Steve finally said what Danny hoped to hear.

"And me," Steve murmured quietly, his eyes glistening in the light of the fire as he stared at the sooty ash before looking up. There was a bit of a smile on lips as he stared into his friend's face.

"I do. I call you _Danno_ all the time."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, his eyes rolling dramatically towards the stars in the night sky before he held his arms out wide towards his best friend. "God help me ... and you."

_**~ THE END. PERIOD. FOR REAL. ~** _


End file.
